


One More Time

by Desdimonda



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post Break Up, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of battle with Corypheus, Lavellan confronts Solas about the break up, wanting his touch, one more time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Time

The sounds of impending battle filled the night air. Steps; quick, erratic echoed in the great hall. Saga’s steps mixed with her people’s as she pushed past the throng that was gathering itself in her throne room and slowly filtering outside.

But instead of walking with them, she pushed against them. Strong hands pushed people aside. Her name was muttered with confusion, called across the room with a quiver of trepidation. Cullen grabbed her wrist, halting her escape.

'Inquisitor - you summoned us to the war room?' asked Cullen, staring at her.

Saga whipped free her hand, pushing Cullen back a step. ‘I did. So wait for me there,’ bit Saga, turning to push past another swell of people, buckling up for battle.

'Where are you going?' he called, trying to follow her. But his steps were cut short; his words lost in the noise.

Saga heard his small response; the words almost legible if she listened close enough; but she didn’t care. Her hand gripped the handle of the heavy wooden door and she walked through, with purpose. Feet, bare, bound around the ankle with simple linen made no sound as she pushed open the second door, hard enough for it to clatter against the stone wall, sending a biting echo through the rotunda.

Solas turned to face her, staff in hard, furs draped across his shoulders, ready for battle. His ears twitched as he looked upon Saga. Her white hair was awry, braids tugging loose as she walked. Her brow was creased, tight, eyes bright with trepidation, with her fire and fury. Against her bare, free face her red lips shone, parted, ready to speak.

‘One last time,’ she said, words erratic, crackling with the quiver of emotion that broke her voice. ‘I need you, one last time.’

Saga didn’t wait for a reply. She stepped forward, familiar hands cloying at his robe, fingers slinking between the furs, desperate.

‘Saga - we shouldn’t -’ he tried, words barely a whisper. Whatever he tried to say next was lost to a kiss. His back collided with the wall, their bodies crowned by his fresco, the eyes of the wolves a halo.

‘You keep saying that,’ she breathed against his neck as she peppered the skin with kisses. It had felt like an age since their last kiss by the lake; since his goodbye. ‘But you never tell me _why_.’

Wandering hands, desperate to stop, glided across Saga’s body, feeling the curve of her back, the nick of her waist, bound with leather. He sank his hands into her hair, messy, tangled, familiar. He leaned into her neck, lips caressing the skin, slipping, brushing along the slide of her ears that quivered, the tip dipping down as she moaned against his neck. Her vibrato of moans was a melody to his ears; a melody he had missed, that he had longed for, night after night.

But it wasn’t right.

‘Inquisitor,’ tried Solas, almost slipping back to ‘vhenan’; her title felt strange on his tongue.

Saga clung to his parted robe, feeling the terse word spoken against her skin. She pulled back, eyes narrow, brow tense. ‘It’s Inquisitor now, is it?’ she said, glancing to the side, unwilling to let him see the tremor of unshed tears.

‘I can’t,’ he said, again.

Saga caught his lips in a kiss, stalling the rest of his words. He sank into her hold; weak, wavering. Her bare hands pushed off his furs, pushing apart the clasp of his robe. The furs pooled at her feet. She crept fingers along his skin, cresting his waist, slipping beneath his belt, touching the soft, silky hair that trailed down.

‘No!’ he cried, finding his strength, calling upon all his resolve, clinging to what remained. ‘Saga, we can’t. I can’t. _STOP!_ ’

In one swift motion he gripped her wrists and pushed her back. She collided gently with his table, hands splayed behind her on the wood, steadying her body. She drew in a sharp breath, tart, tearing at her throat. White strands of hair stuck to her wet, parted lips; eyes opened wide, staring at the mage, at the man she loved.

‘I can’t do this. I can’t. I’d hurt you, in the end,’ he rasped, pulling together his robe, eyes unable to meet hers.

‘In the end of _what_?’ she shouted, taking a step forward, her arms accentuating her words. ‘I am not some simpering little miss, Solas, I can handle whatever this reason is.’

‘I know,’ he said, sadly, touching his chest where her hands had been, just seconds before. ‘That is why I love you.’

‘Clearly not enough,’ she said, words trembling with the swell of unshed tears.

‘Saga - no - I don’t want you to ever think I don’t love you,’ he said, stepping closer, trying to reach for her hands. She hit them away.

‘No! You-you cannot plead with me to understand something you will not give me a reason for! You expect me to just forget everything?’ Tears fell, staining her bare face, tingeing her cheeks red. ‘Just tell me why. Because all I think, all I believe, is that it is because of _me_.’

Solas shook his head, whispering no, the simple word ghosted past his lips, echoing the motion of his head. At last, he caught her gaze, looking into her wet, weeping eyes. ‘The fault was never yours; the fault is all mine. I led you astray, I took what I wanted when I shouldn’t.’ He paused, reaching out for her hand; she shook her head, walking back into the table. ‘The fault is _mine_.’

‘It would be easier to tell me you don’t love me,’ she said, trembling hands wiping away her shed of tears. ‘Say it.’

‘No!’ he cried, the word breaking against his throat.

‘Say it!’ she screamed. ‘ _Say it, SAY IT!_ ’ Saga halted her words, her breath catching in her throat. Her mark glowed green, the pain seared across her skin. She winced, staggering her steps, swearing under her breath. ‘No. Not now. Creators, not now!’

‘It is time,’ said Solas, grabbing her marked hand. ‘When this is over, when the world is right; I will tell you. But I will _never_ say I do not love you.’

‘If this is what having your love feels like, I do not want it,’ she whispered, pulling back her hand. She saw the hurt in his eyes shine; it looked just how she felt, and a part of her was glad. The pain seared across her hand again, the green of her mark a beacon in the dark. ‘I need you on the battlefield.’ And she turned, and left.

Solas fell back against the wall, closing his wet eyes. A tear stained his cheek.


End file.
